Maryam Khalil (Dagharmeh), 64, a mother of nine, described life in Hamamat al-Maleh, abuse by the military and settlers and the community's expulsion
I have lived in the Hamamat al-Maleh area for more than 50 years. I spent most of my life there. My family and I lived there all these years; we raised cattle and sheep, and we had relatively good lives. We had water, open grazing areas and access to everything. More than ten families lived in Hamamat al-Maleh. We had a school, there were old buildings, like the hotel and the mill, and we all lived together as neighbors safely and calmly. I gave birth to all my children there and married off some of them.
In the last three years, the occupation forces and the settlers have been putting more and more pressure on us. They brought cattle and sheep, set up outposts near us and started hounding us in every aspect of life. Gradually, we couldn’t go out to graze anymore, plow land or even go a few meters away from our tents.
But in the last three years, the occupation forces and the settlers have been putting more and more pressure on us. They brought cattle and sheep, set up outposts near us and started hounding us in every aspect of life. Gradually, we couldn’t go out to graze anymore, plow land or even go a few meters away from our tents. The settlers wandered among the tents every day, sometimes with their cattle and sometimes on ATVs, armed and attacking anyone who came near the hills that provided our living for decades.
They constantly threatened us and demanded that we leave the area. They emptied water tanks, broke solar panels, stole sheep, assaulted residents and sometimes brought the army to arrest us and our children. Once, they passed by me while I was baking, when the dough was on the fire, and poured it on the ground right in front of me. It was daily humiliation meant to drive us out.
Over the past year, especially in recent months, the attacks really intensified, until all the families realized that we couldn’t stay anymore. I cried almost every day at the thought of having to leave the place I spent my entire life in. My children saw me crying. But in the end, we felt we had no choice. We had to save our families and what was left of our source of livelihood.
We felt we had no choice. We had to save our families and what was left of our source of livelihood. In the past month, we started taking down the tents, the pens and everything we built over the years. Dozens of vehicles moved our belongings, first to the Tubas area, costing us thousands of shekels.
In the past month, we started taking down the tents, the pens and everything we built over the years. Dozens of vehicles moved our belongings, first to the Tubas area, costing us thousands of shekels (1 ILS ~ 0.33 USD). We moved to Tayasir for one day, but in the end, we moved to an area north of the village of Sir in Jenin District, in Area A, about 15 kilometers northwest of Hamamat, where we set up new tents and new pens.
The move destroyed our livelihood too. We had more than 250 sheep, and now we have only about 100 left. We had more than 60 head of cattle, and we were forced to sell all of them so we could continue to make a living from the sheep we had left. In the past, the animals grazed in the nearby hills, which saved us on feed costs. Every year, we sold milk and cheese and more than 35 calves, and after expenses, we had enough money to make a living. But once the grazing was closed off to us, we couldn’t afford feed, water and medicine for the sheep and cattle. We were forced to sell almost everything at very low prices, sometimes on credit. The traders started avoiding us and refusing to pay, and the checks they gave us bounced. But we had no choice but to keep selling like that. We had nowhere left to live or to graze.
Uprooting from Hamamat al-Maleh was like a Nakba for us. We are living a new Nakba every day. The families in the community have scattered; each has moved to a different area or district. Once we lived together as neighbors and relatives. Today everyone is fighting on their own somewhere else.
Life is very hard in the new area too. This is private farmland, and the landowners here obviously aren’t willing to have the sheep come near their fields. We’re careful, but every day we hear complaints that the sheep are eating the crops. In addition, out here, we have huge expenses for feed, water and other necessities, and life is unbearably hard.
Uprooting from Hamamat al-Maleh was like a Nakba for us. We are living a new Nakba every day. The families in the community have scattered; each has moved to a different area or district. Once we lived together as neighbors and relatives. Today everyone is fighting on their own somewhere else. All my daughters lived near me, and today they are far away, and I hardly hear them say “hello” on the phone. People are exhausted, broken, asking themselves what the future holds for them.
The settlers kept chasing us even after we left. They came to the new area we moved to. We don’t know how they got here too, but it’s clear to us that they are trying to cut us off from our source of livelihood, force the livestock growers to sell their animals and leave us with nothing. Now, it’s also clear to us that it’s not just individual settlers. They are supported by the occupation government, the military and the police. The settlers are armed and act with full backing from the occupation authorities. They were given cattle, sheep, feed and everything they needed to take over the area and drive us out of it.
Today, the settlers are taking over the area of Hamamat al-Maleh, setting up outposts and driving out every Palestinian who comes there. Even the school established in the area about four or five years ago was destroyed after the families and students were expelled. They want to erase everything that could encourage us to go back or even to think about going back.
Today, the settlers are taking over the area of Hamamat al-Maleh, setting up outposts and driving out every Palestinian who comes there. Even the school established in the area about four or five years ago was destroyed after the families and students were expelled. They want to erase everything that could encourage us to go back or even to think about going back. In the past, we flourished there. There was water, open grazing, and safety. Now I feel that we are living in darkness, and we do live in real fear, not just for our flock but also for our children, for our livelihood and for our future.
No one really stands by our side. People come, officials, foreigners and international organizations, but in practice, nothing changes. The settlers keep attacking us as the world watches, and the world does nothing.
What happened to us is a crime. Once we were united and lived together, and today, everyone is scattered and uprooted from their land. There is not even a sliver of hope that we can return to our place and live again in al-Maleh. The settlers are there all the time, and anyone who comes near the area is in danger.
And still, we hold out hope. With God’s help, life will smile on us again, and all this darkness will disappear.
- Testimony given to B’Tselem field researcher ‘Aref Daraghmeh on 21 April 2026